


Boyfriend Lean

by angelheadedhipster, hi_irashay



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (WHY ISN'T "sex tears" AN ACTUAL TAG COME ON NOW AO3), A LOT toppy Danny, Captain Feelings, Chad would be here to talk about the Rangers, Cload Squoad, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Handcuffs, Honey Moms, In French!, M/M, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Sufficient prep and lube usage YOU’RE WELCOME, a LOT praise kink, how many times can claude say 'danny'?, remember how the flyers were in the playoffs for a hot second?, sex tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-05-26 08:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_irashay/pseuds/hi_irashay
Summary: "Claude can’t stop smiling. Danny’s here, Danny’s here."Before and afterThat Picfrom the end of season game in April.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maypolegoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maypolegoat/gifts).



> Happy birthday, maypolegoat! Aren’t you glad you made an AO3 username now?

They beat the Canes. It was hard-won, and they still need one more win to clinch, but that’s for two days from now. Tonight, the win is enough to keep them alive, to keep them going. And, Claude had gotten first star, which was… nice? Yeah, it was nice. Claude was not yet so jaded that he still didn’t get a small thrill from victories like that. He normally feels laser-focused on being there for his team - captaining them through whatever they face - but it was nice to sometimes take these moments just for himself.

Claude gets through the post-game media scrum on autopilot. He begins the journey to the dressing room, idly scrolling through alerts on his phone, when he hears a soft laugh from somewhere down the hallway. No matter how many years had passed, he’d know that sound anywhere...

And there he is - Danny - leaning up against the wall a bit further down the hall. He looks casual and professional, apparently talking to one of the Flyers’ PR people. Danny’s eyes dart over to Claude and the corner of his mouth quirks into a gentle smirk, though he somehow manages to otherwise still look like he is paying attention to the PR guy’s rambling. _That’s Danny for you_ , Claude thinks.

“Danny!” Claude calls out, causing Danny to turn towards him fully and the PR guy to stop talking. He quickens his pace, striding down the hall towards Danny as the gentle smirk transforms into a full-on smile. Claude feels himself grinning right back as he pulls up next to Danny, going in for a hug. Something flashes across Danny’s face, reminding Claude where he is and who else is there - mindful of the PR guy, he quickly rearranges his limbs for a more manful “bro-clasp-hug” instead of the full body embrace he’d been going for.

They separate far sooner than Claude - or either of them, probably - would have liked. Claude settles in next to Danny, one arm braced on the wall as he asks “ _Crisse_ , Danny, how are you?”

Claude is really, truly surprised to have Danny there. Delighted, but surprised. Claude hadn’t been expecting Danny to come down for this, but of course he came. Danny had always been there when he needed him, no reason for that to change now.

“I am well, Claude” Danny replies evenly. “I was just talking to Chad here about the Rangers game.”

Claude can’t help the grimace, but it fades quickly. He can’t stop smiling at Danny. Danny’s here, Danny’s _here_. Out of the corner of his eye, Claude notices Chad snap a surreptitious picture of him and Danny. Danny’s shoulders stiffen - a small movement that likely went unnoticed by everyone but Claude - bristling at the slight invasion, at all the slight invasions they have to endure in their line of work.

 _You’re out of practice, old man_ , Claude thinks in Danny’s general direction. He liked to think Danny could understand his thoughts. At least, Danny always seemed to know what he was thinking, more than anyone else did.

“Yeah, well…” Claude lets himself trail off as he stares at Danny. At Danny’s throat, as he swallowed. At Danny’s lips, as he brought the tip of his tongue to moisten them. “Anyway, how’s Maine? How’s the new team?”

“Ah, _très bon!_ You should see them sometimes, Claude, such promise!”

Claude zones out a little as Danny speaks, drinking in the sight of him. Danny looks GOOD to Claude, but then he always looked good. He has this new layer of refined finesse over his unflappably soft, gentle core. His inherent Danny-ness. Claude finds he has to restrain himself from running a finger over the wrinkles at the corner of Danny’s eyes. Lines etched by years of smiles, frowns, bench cellies, carpool pickups.

Danny continues to describe his team - their season, their practices, his general approach - until Chad seems to lose interest and wanders away. Perhaps that had been Danny’s intention all along. He had always been smarter than anyone but Claude had realized.

Once Danny realizes that Chad’s gone and that they are alone in the hallway, his posture immediately shifts. He stands up to his full height and crowds against Claude. Oh, how Claude had missed this. The way Danny could somehow make himself seem 10 meters tall, impossibly larger than his relatively small frame. Danny pressed forward so that he was caging Claude in, his arms on either side of Claude’s shoulders as Claude’s back hit the wall.

“ _Mon poulet_ , you did so well tonight,” Danny’s voice is almost a purr. “I loved watching you, always love watching you.” Danny brings a hand to cup Claude’s cheek as Claude’s eyes flutter shut. “So proud, _mon étoile_ , so proud.”

Claude shudders. He ducks his face into Danny’s shoulder, lets the familiar Danny smell wash over him and through him. “God, Danny,” he says into his suit. “It’s good to see you.”

Danny pulls back after several long moments, and they are two men standing in a hallway once more, an acceptable distance apart. They could be having a very normal conversation, but Claude’s eyes won’t settle, and he feels like he can feel the heat coming off Danny, even from this far away.

“You were great,” Danny says, gaze intent. “I mean it.”

“First star,” Claude says, trying to be self-deprecating and failing. He just feels so good when Danny talks to him like this. It’s been so long.

“No kidding,” Danny says, and he flicks his eyes over Claude in an exaggerated once over.

“I just hope it’s enough,” Claude says. He looks past Danny at the opposite hallway wall as his mind ticks, running through everything that’s brought them to this moment. Their post-season hangs on one game, but 60 minutes has never felt as insurmountable as it does now. How could so much come down to so little?

Danny nods, and Claude knows he doesn’t have to explain. It helps calm his thoughts some, knowing that Danny gets it. “You’re close,” Danny says.

Claude clicks his teeth. “Florida keeps winning,” he says. “I… god, I just want to make it, you know?”

Danny nods without saying anything, holding Claude’s gaze.

“I just feel like we’ve come so far, and everyone’s been working so hard,” Claude says, thinking of his guys and all the literal blood, sweat, and tears they have poured into this season. He’s proud of them. He wants this for them almost more than he wants it for himself.

“You’ve been working hard, too,” Danny says. “What is it now, 100 points?”

Claude can’t keep the smile off his face, so he ducks his head. “Yeah, but none of it will mean anything if the team doesn’t make the playoffs. I just…”

Danny’s still looking at him when Claude looks up, eyes big and brown. “If the Flyers don’t make it to the playoffs, it won’t be your fault,” he says.

“I know that,” Claude says with a sigh.

It doesn’t look like Danny believes him, but he lets it go. “Anyway, you’ll make it. Florida, whatever.”

Claude laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “Plus, then we’d probably play Pittsburgh.” He waggles his eyebrows and chances a look at Danny’s face. Claude isn’t surprised to see that his eyes darken and a scowl develops. “That’s always fun.”

Danny glowers at him. “You better fucking beat him,” he says. “I mean, them.”

Claude grins. “I know _exactly_ who you mean.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Danny mutters, and Claude feels himself smiling widely. His thing with Sid is long over, but Danny is still cute when he gets all grumbly and jealous.

“Sorry,” Danny sighs out, looking up.

“It’s fine,” Claude says. “It’s cute.” Danny is blushing now, and Claude loves it, loves the way color creeps up his neck, the edges of his hairline turning pink.

He brings his arm towards Danny’s hip, loose and comfortable enough that it could be a bro hug, a casual slide towards each other, except that Claude leans down towards Danny’s ear and says, quiet and low, in French, “Come home with me. I want to come on your dick.”

Danny turns impossibly redder, just like Claude wanted, but he also circles his fingers around Claude’s wrist. He holds him there as Claude tries to draw his hand back, his grip loose but firm. Claude feels his own pulse kick up, heat pooling in his stomach.

Danny waits for him to look up, for their eyes to meet again. He waits a beat longer and then says, English, “If you’re good.” He punctuates it with a squeeze of his fingers, warmth and pressure against Claude’s wrist.

Claude feels the blood rush out of his face and straight to his cock, flushing hot under his sweater and then cold again. Danny lets go of his wrist, and Claude knows he should back away, knows it, but he can’t seem to get his muscles to obey.

Danny takes his reaction in, then steps back. His eyes are still on Claude’s, dark and hot, and Claude wants - needs - to get out of here, right now.

“How long are you in town for?” he asks, trying to get himself back under control.

“A week or two,” Danny says, “probably. The boys are done with their seasons, mostly spending time with their mom or friends, and the Mariners don’t really need me for a bit.”

A week or two. Claude’s head spins. He gets a week of Danny, at least. Gets Danny for the next few games, maybe even -

“Through the first round, if I can swing it,” Danny continues. He bites his lip, and his eyes darken further as he rises up, slightly on his toes, to whisper in Claude’s ear. “I want to show Sid how well you play when someone is taking care of you. Taking care of you like you need.”

Danny’s breath is hot down Claude’s neck, hotter still when Danny leans in to quickly nip at the tendon along its side before stepping back once more. _Fuck, fuck,_ Claude needs to get them out of here, now.

“I have to change,” Claude stutters out. “I have to- I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.”

Danny grins, cocky and charming. His eyes follow Claude’s as he makes his way back down the hall toward the locker room.

“I’m right here,” he calls, and Claude knows he is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, we tripped, slipped and fell on our keyboards. Here's the continuation of that hallway scene. 
> 
> It's porn.

In the end, Claude decides to leave his car at the rink in favor of letting Danny drive them both back to his place.  Claude feels too keyed up to even consider driving, and Danny seems to approve of his decision - he keeps a hand on Claude’s thigh throughout the whole trip.

It takes a few soft coughs and expectant gazes for Claude to remember that Danny has never actually been to his new place, providing directions whenever necessary.  Claude practically leaps out of the car before Danny has the key out of the ignition, and he strides purposefully up to the door to get it open. The lock is fiddly - has been since he bought the place - but Claude’s just been too busy during the season to have someone come fix it.

He finally gets the door open just as Danny comes up behind him, a bag over his shoulder, announcing his presence with a soft brush of fingers against Claude’s lower back.  Claude allows himself to be ushered in to his own home, toeing off his shoes in the entryway as Danny closes the door firmly behind him. Danny drops his bag and turns so his back is against the door, leaning up against it and crossing his arms in front of his chest.  

Claude hesitates for a moment, unsure.  “So this is it!” He gestures vaguely at the house behind him.  “Do you want a tour?”

Danny smiles at him, his eyes dancing enough that Claude thinks he’s being laughed at. “Sure,” he says, softly. “If you want to give me one.”  He cranes his neck to look at pictures on the wall, his gaze falling on framed shots of Claude and his sister, Claude as a Phantom, the lake in Hearst. He’s taking everything in, Claude can tell, making sure he knows exactly what’s going on, and it warms Claude to think of it, of Danny wanting to be a part of his life.

He has to kiss Danny, he  _ has _ to.

Danny makes a slight noise when Claude’s lips touch his, but he responds quickly. Claude feels a rush of relief, of rightness, and shivers start to course through his chest as Danny’s tongue curls against his, soft and sweet. 

“Danny,” Claude groans, but it’s lost in the space between their mouths. 

Danny kisses like he always has, firm and sure, one hand slipping into Claude’s hair to run his fingers against his scalp. Claude wants this so much, wants everything, and he starts to deepen the kiss, sucking Danny’s tongue into his mouth, running his hands down and across Danny’s back, gripping at his shoulders. Danny is kissing him back, but he keeps it soft, maddeningly sweet. Claude, frustrated, pulls Danny towards him, tries to angle him so that he can wreck Claude like Claude wants.

Danny pulls back, just enough to keep their mouths apart. His hand is still in Claude’s hair, and his eyes are deep brown when they meet Claude’s. 

“I know what you want,” Danny says, and his voice is lower, breathier, but he still sounds so calm, infuriatingly calm.

Claude feels like he’s being driven crazy, already. “Yeah, well, do I get it?” he asks, and doesn’t stop the whine in his voice. 

Danny’s still looking at him, still quiet and immobile in Claude’s hallway, his fingers putting pressure against Claude’s scalp but not enough, not nearly enough. There’s a moment, a pause. 

“Are you sure?” Danny asks, quiet, and his voice is the same ordinary tone as it was at the rink now, the same quiet authority it had in the car. 

“Danny, I -” Claude swallows. “As soon as I saw you in that hallway, I just… come on, Danny.  _ Please _ .”

Claude watches Danny’s eyes on his, watches him press his lips together ever so slightly. He’s not sure what else he can do to prove to Danny that he wants it, that he needs this, that he knows exactly he’s asking for and knows that Danny can give it to him, so he stays still, tries not to fidget, shifts his weight from foot to foot. 

It feels like an eternity before Danny drops his hand from Claude and steps back, putting several inches of distance between the two of them. 

“Okay,” Danny says. “Go in the bedroom and strip. Lie on the bed. I’ll be there soon.”

Claude had thought he was already excited, but his pulse kicks up another notch at that. He can feel his facing getting red, muscles in his pelvis tightening. The walk to the bedroom seems endlessly long, but he’s starting to fall into that space where time is meaningless, where the waiting is part of the experience. He doesn’t hear Danny walking behind him, but he feels like can feel Danny’s eyes on him even as he turns down the hall and into the bedroom. 

Claude takes his clothes off without ceremony, and pulls the covers back.  He’s climbed halfway into bed before he stops, remembering what Danny likes, what Danny wants from him. It’s been some time, but he still knows how to be good. So he climbs back out of bed and gathers up his game day suit, hangs it in the closet, folds his undershirt neatly. By the time he’s naked and lying back in bed, he’s feeling some of the stress and anxiety dissipate from his body, like its oozing out of his skin and sinking into the sheets.

He lies in bed, naked, and waits. His dick is hard, but it doesn’t really matter. He doesn’t have to think about it - Danny will think about it for him. Time stretches and dilates, until he starts to feel totally unhooked from his own reality, while also completely, totally present. That feeling of presence - it’s addictive. It’s a trick he can’t achieve by himself, no matter how many times he’s tried. It’s like there are two parts of him, one impatiently waiting for Danny to come back, one part content to wait here forever, as long as he’s doing what Danny wants. Claude closes his eyes, and breathes, and waits.

His eyes are still closed when he hears Danny walk in, an indeterminate amount of time later, footsteps soft on the carpet.  His skin prickles, and the tightness in his stomach grows, his dick getting stiffer. But he feels soft and floaty, even without Danny touching him at all - it’s magic, almost, the effect Danny can have on Claude.  Subtle warmth along Claude’s side, a soft clunk of something (somethings?) being placed on the bedside table, then the slight dip of the bed to his left. Claude cracks an eye open to see Danny sitting beside him, one knee on the bed as he leans over Claude.  Claude closes his eyes again as Danny’s lips meet his forehead in a gentle kiss. It’s nice, it’s good and all, but it’s not necessarily all that Claude wants - he squirms in response and twists his head to the side, away from Danny’s soft mouth.

“Claude,” Danny admonishes, voice firm.  “Are you going to be good for me, or aren’t you?” 

Claude sighs.  He wants to be good - it’s all he ever wants to be for Danny, really - but he’s just so keyed up tonight.  It’s been so long - so  _ long _ \- since he’s had Danny with him. He wants to be good, he wants Danny to be proud of him, but he wants a lot of other things, and they keep running through his head, too. He wants the quiet, but he can’t not think about his cock, too.  Claude’s just not sure he can trust himself.

“Maybe you need a little bit of help to be good,  _ mon cher _ ,” Danny continues.  “Is that it?” Claude’s eyes pop open and he turns his head back towards Danny, meeting his steady gaze.   _ Yes,  _ he thinks, and he hopes Danny can read it on his face.

“You have to use your words, ” Danny prompts, expectant.

Claude holds Danny’s gaze a moment, before exhaling sharply and deeply, a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.  “Yes, Danny,” Claude says, sagging deeper into the mattress. “Yes, I need help. Please...”

Danny smiles.  “ _ Très bien, mon cher _ ,”  he says. Claude feels warmth flow through him at being told he’s good, just that much. He’s so fucked when it comes to Danny. Danny kisses Claude on the forehead once more before turning back to the bedside table and grabbing the cuffs he must have placed there earlier.   _ Always prepared, that’s Danny. _

With great care and an expression that borders on reverent, Danny fastens Claude’s wrists to the headboard, one at a time.  The cuffs are soft, smooth leather - maybe suede? - but strong. Claude can’t remember feeling anything like them before, they must be new.  Or, he reminds himself, it really has been that long.  _ Too long. _  Claude tests the cuffs subtly as Danny sits back to examine his handiwork, pulling against them slightly and twisting his wrists as much as he can.  Danny smiles indulgently, as if he knows exactly what Claude is doing but allows it anyway.

“How’d I do?” Danny asks, hint of a smirk in his voice.  “Good enough?”

Claude starts to nod, before remembering -  _ have to use words. _  “Yes, Danny.”  Claude lets his body relax back into the bed once more. This is slowly settling back into their old familiar routine, and Claude already feels much more on solid ground than he did even an hour ago. He knows what happens next. Or rather, he knows that from here on he doesn’t know what will happen, can’t know. But he trusts Danny, and trusts that Danny will give him what he needs.

Danny leans back, climbs off the bed. He’s wearing his suit, still, Claude realizes, standing and staring at Claude naked. Claude feels electrified, Danny’s eyes dark and intent on him. 

“What’s your safeword?” Danny asks. His eyes are on Claude but his fingers are twitching, and Claude can’t tear his eyes away. 

Claude wants to say something clever, or funny - something like Crosby, or Nolan, or whatever - but he can’t think when Danny looks like that. When Danny looks  _ at him _ like that. 

Claude’s taken too long answering, he can tell. Danny shifts his weight, slightly, and his hands fall back to his sides. 

“Colors?” Danny says. “You remember, right?”

Claude nods. “Red for ‘stop,’ yellow for ‘slow down,’ green for ‘everything is good.”

“Good,” Danny says. “ _ En français c'est bien aussi.” _

“Okay,” says Claude.

“And no coming until I say you can,” Danny continues.  “ _ Non sans permission.  Compris?” _

_ “Oui, bien sur _ ,” Claude says.  It’s not a surprise - Danny likes it when he asks for permission. But Claude still feels heat running across him, sinks into arousal that flushes through him, slow and aching. Danny says when he can come, and, knowing Danny, he’ll probably say no before he ever says yes. Claude’s breathing starts to come a little faster. 

“Okay,” Danny says, and smiles, small. It still lights up his whole face, and Claude aches, just for a minute, at not seeing that smile as much as he used to. 

Danny begins to methodically remove his suit.  He goes slowly, too slowly, pausing after every article of clothing to fold it neatly and put it on the chair by the bed.  He maintains eye contact with Claude the entire time, somehow even while bending to remove his socks. It’s driving Claude  _ crazy _ .  He’s straining against the cuffs to try to get closer to Danny, and Danny sees.  His smile turns predatory at that.

“Look at you,” Danny purrs, his voice dropping down a register.  “So eager. Always so easy for me, aren’t you, Claude?” Claude clamps his lips shut over a whine, high in his throat.

When he’s finally naked, Danny kneels on the bed next to Claude, his gaze heated as he looks Claude over from head to toe.  Claude can’t keep the whimper from escaping this time

_ “ _ _ Détends-toi _ _ , mon  _ _ étoile,  _ and let me take care of you,” Danny murmurs, his voice low and firm.  Claude lets his arms hang from the cuffs and his body sink into the mattress, and Danny finally, finally touches him.

Danny’s hand is on Claude’s cheek, cupping his head slightly. Danny looks at him and Claude squirms, Danny’s hand heavy and warm against the scruff of his beard. 

“ _ Tu êtes si beau, mon cher, _ ” Danny says, and kisses Claude before he can respond, tilting his head to give Danny better access to his mouth. Claude moans, he can’t help it, and kisses Danny back with everything he has. Claude’s eyes fall closed and he gives in to the lush feel of Danny’s mouth, the comforting pressure of Danny’s hand on his cheek.

Danny’s lips trail down Claude’s jaw, his neck, wet kisses with a hint of teeth. Claude feels like putty, breathing deep and trying to angle his body to be where Danny wants him. Danny finds the tendon in his neck, bites his teeth down just enough to send a flare of pain down Claude’s spine. Claude gasps, but Danny is already moving down, lower.

Claude’s eyes open at the first touch of Danny’s tongue along his nipple, soft and too gentle. It’s so  _ much _ , but Danny just chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through the skin over Claude’s ribs, before his tongue is back on Claude. Danny flicks and teases before taking a breath and flattening his tongue across Claude’s nipple, a long, slow glide that feels delicious. Claude groans. 

Danny spends long enough on Claude’s nipples that Claude is melting, a puddle of sensation, the cuffs sharp against his wrists as he sags. He could stay like this forever, he doesn’t mind, but Danny stops, the feeling of cool air rushing in against his wet, sensitive skin. Claude is thinking about that, about where Danny’s mouth used to be, that it’s almost a surprise when he feels fingers circling his cock, strong and firm even as they just barely graze his skin there. 

“Fuck, Danny,” Claude says, and he’s not sure what he wants, just hopes that Danny will give it to him. 

“Yes?” Danny says, his voice teasing. He’s on his knees by Claude’s hip, jacking him lightly, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He looks so good. He’s the best thing Claude’s ever seen.

“Can you- Are you-” Claude  _ wants _ , wants everything. It spins through his head, formless and desperate.

“Words,  _ ma fou _ ,” Danny says.

Words, okay. Danny wants him to talk, at least tonight. He can do that. He can say the things that Danny wants.

Claude blinks slowly, looks at the ceiling. Danny is still stroking him, casual enough that he knows he won’t come like this, but enough to keep Claude paying attention. Which he is, always. 

“Danny,” Claude breathes, and he looks back at him, makes eye contact with his big, brown eyes. Danny is smiling, slightly, that small smile that curls the corner of his mouth and the skin near his eyes. He looks expectant, still, and he hasn’t moved.

“Danny,” Claude says again, and it sounds like a prayer, like a plea. “I don’t-I, just…” He stops, breathes in. “I’m so hard, Danny. Please. Just - just keep touching me. Harder, more, I- just a little. Please, Danny.” 

Still smiling, Danny watches, and then places his other hand on the bed and leans forward. “Very good, Claude,” he says, his head hovering over Claude’s for a beat before he moves down to kiss him, lightly, no tongue at all. “You are so good for me, always” he says, and Claude glows. Danny thinks he’s good, good for  _ him _ , and that’s enough. He feels the warmth spreading through him, that knowledge that he’s  _ good _ , and that’s when Danny replaces the hand on Claude’s cock with his mouth. 

Claude arches into it immediately, startled by the intensity of his own body’s reaction. Danny is merciless, sucking him down to the root before pulling back, slow and careful, the flat of his tongue rubbing under the head. It’s tight and hot and immediate, and Claude has been on the edge for so long now, already. Practically since he saw Danny at the rink, if he’s honest with himself. He’s gasping for air now, shifting against the cuffs as pleasure and sensation rush through him.

And then Danny’s mouth is gone, Claude’s dick left hard and untouched. Claude cries out, guttural and shocked, but Danny just sits back on his knees again and smiles at Claude. It’s his media smile, full and wide across his face, but Danny’s eyes are twinkling, too. He’s not touching Claude  _ at all. _

“Danny, fuck,” Claude says. He’s still breathing hard. 

“I’m right here,” Danny says, but he doesn’t move to touch him. Just continues to smile, and to look at Claude with such affection that Claude feels like he might explode. 

Claude blows out a breath, closes his eyes. He stretches, feet pointed, arms moving in the cuffs. His breathing is calmer, he thinks.

Danny smiles, and leans down to lick a stripe straight up the vein on the underside of Claude’s dick, tilting his head to swirl around the tip.

Claude groans, breathes in, and then moans on the out breath as Danny does it again. No one sucks dick like Danny, careful and methodical and knowing exactly which spots take Claude apart. Danny sucks, and licks, and teases, and Claude loses his mind.

He’s close, again, eyes screwed up and fingers curling into fists in his cuffs, when Danny stops, pulls off, sits back.

Claude’s eyes open and there’s that maddening smile again, lovable and infuriating.

“Fuck, I-” Claude heaves another breath. “It’s so fucking good, Danny.”

Danny grins, and Claude knows him well enough to tell that he looks smug. Claude wants to get fucked, when he’d thought about it, but Danny sucking his soul out through his dick is definitely an amenable option. He looks up through hooded eyes at Danny, waiting to see what happens next. 

“Trust me,” Danny says. “I’ve got you.” And that kind of certainty, that absolute confidence that Danny can make Claude come exactly how and when Danny wants, that it’s all Danny’s decision and Claude will just have to wait and see, will just have to take it... Claude feels arousal like a kick in his stomach, feels the knowledge of how completely he’s  _ Danny’s _ .  

Danny’s sucking his dick again, cheeks hollowed, and Claude curls in on himself, feels the material of the cuffs press into his wrists and tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.  It’s a lot, it’s so much, it’s Danny, and suddenly it’s  _ too much _ , way too much. 

“Danny,” Claude says, feeling a tear trickle down his cheek.  His voice sounds like he’s underground, so gravelly and hoarse in his throat he can barely understand himself. “Danny, I-” He’s so close, and he knows he has to get permission, but he's not sure if he can keep holding off.  He wants to be good, he wants to be what Danny wants, but suddenly it’s all rushing through him. Arousal and pleasure, but also anxiety and worry and discomfort, and he can’t figure anything out. He doesn’t want Danny to stop, but God, he just needs, he needs…

“Yellow,” Claude says, and his voice sounds stronger, if quiet. “Yellow,  _ jaune _ ,  _ désolé _ , Danny, I just-”

Danny has pulled off him, and he’s looking at Claude with so much concern, his eyes big in his face. He leans forward, hand coming towards Claude’s shoulder before stopping, hovering in mid air. 

“No “sorry,” it’s okay, always okay,” Danny says. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” His hand is still in the air, not touching Claude, and Claude knows it’s because Danny is worried, but he still wants Danny to touch him. 

“Claude,” Danny says, a touch more command in his voice. He sits back. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to uncuff you?” 

“No, no,” Claude says. “Not hurt, and please - no, don’t take them off. I just. I need a second.”

“Okay,” Danny says. “That is always okay, sweetheart. You can have as long as you need. Always.”  His fingers are gentle as he brings them up to wipe at the tears gathering under Claude’s eyes.

“Thanks,” Claude says, and breathes, letting the cooler air settle on his body, listening to the susurration as his chest rises and falls. He feels better already, grounded.

“Did something bad happen?” Danny says, concern and attention clear in his voice. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing,” Claude says. “It was just...it was too much, all at once. I don’t know.”

Danny nods, and his hand smooths down Claude’s hip, down the outside of his thigh. 

“I just… I didn’t want to mess up, and I want to be what you want, and I wasn’t sure I could be…” Claude says, feeling his cheeks heating up. “I don’t know. I’m okay now, though.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Danny says, and he surges forward, palms on the bed on either side of Claude’s head. Danny leans down, kisses Claude, light and careful. He moves back, ever so slightly, and brings his mouth to Claude’s ear. “You are always what I want,” Danny says, voice barely above a whisper. “Always,” and he kisses Claude again, lets Claude sink into it, lets him twine their tongues together. 

They kiss for... Claude doesn’t know how long, and it helps. Danny feels good against him, strong shoulders and the warmth of his mouth, together in this moment. Claude is still achingly hard, but it feels less urgent, less uncontrollable than before.  He can be here, for now.

Finally Danny removes his mouth from Claude, puts his weight back on his palms, leans back onto his knees. “You could never mess up,” Danny says. “Okay? I won’t let you. Trust me, please. If you can.”

Claude nods. “I always trust you,” he says. 

“Thank you,” Danny says. “I’m proud of you,  _ mon etoile, _ I know this can be hard for you to talk about.  And I’m glad you trust me. Glad I can be worthy of your trust.” Claude’s eyes are pricking again, a bit. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” Claude says, and he’s nodding, head dragging on the pillow. “Yes, please.”

Danny smiles, soft and luminous, before bending to kiss Claude’s forehead with a whispered “ _ Merci.”   _ It doesn’t stay soft for long as he moves to mouth at Claude’s jawline and neck, while reaching an arm out to grab something from the bedside table.  It’s lube, Claude notices.  _ Finally. _

Danny continues his slow, maddening descent down Claude’s body, leaving errant kisses at seemingly random intervals.  He stops around Claude’s middle, sits back slightly, and pushes at Claude’s legs to arrange them how he likes - knees bent and spread, so Danny can maneuver himself between them.  Claude sighs at hearing the soft snick of Danny popping the lube cap open, at Danny’s warmth between his thighs, at being handled.  _ Finally, finally. _

Claude looks down to see Danny intently drizzling lube over his right hand before placing the bottle by Claude’s hip.  There’s a firm hand on Claude’s right knee, and then the soft, wet pressure of Danny’s fingers teasing his cheeks apart and ghosting over his hole. Claude feels himself sink deeper into the mattress as one finger circles his rim, before Danny pushes it inside.  Claude is surprised at how easy it feels, given how long it’s been since he’s done anything like this.  _ It’s Danny _ , he supposes.

Danny twists his finger slightly inside Claude, a vague approximation of a massage.  

It feels good, it feels right, it feels… not enough.  But Danny’s other hand is still on Claude’s knee, alternately squeezing it and lightly scratching his nails against Claude’s thigh.  Danny is watching Claude’s face carefully as he nudges the pad of a second finger against Claude’s rim, testing and teasing. Claude whimpers at the contact, tries to push down towards Danny’s finger, and Danny makes a considering noise.

“You want two, already?” Danny asks, mildly surprised even as he’s already wiggling the second finger in beside the first.  Claude nods as furiously as he can in this position, trying to relax against the increased pressure. The second finger slides firmly in, and Danny scissors them a little as he rotates his wrist.  He is being efficient, not drawing it out, Claude notes, like maybe he wants this - needs this - as badly as Claude does.

The first brush of fingers over his prostate jolts up and down Claude’s spine, lighting him up from within and making his hips jerk.  Danny smiles at him, eyes hungry, before very deliberately stroking over Claude’s prostate once more.

“ _ Crisse _ ,” Claude can’t help but vocalize, breathing heavily as he slowly unravels from within.

“There you are _ , _ ” Danny purrs, pumping his fingers in and out.  He’s avoiding Claude’s prostate now, but keeps at it for a couple of minutes, before removing them and reaching for the lube.  He pours more over his fingers, getting sloppy with it now, before tossing the lube back by Claude’s hip and pressing three fingers inside.  It’s a slow, agonizing slide, but soon enough Danny’s back to pistoning, scissoring, stroking as Claude opens up for him. Claude keens, unable to stop himself, his head thrashing back and forth on the pillow. Danny’s other hand moves to press down on Claude’s hip to try and keep him still, but Claude bucks up against it nonetheless.

“Danny, please…” Claude feels himself getting close to that edge again, though he knows Danny won’t let him fall.  “Please, I need you.”

“You have to ask, Claude,” Danny’s eyes are intent on Claude’s face again.  “I will always give you what you want, you only have to ask.”

Claude gasps as Danny strokes over his prostate again, purposeful and controlled.  He struggles to meet Danny’s gaze, body rebelling against it, wanting to surrender completely to the incredible feelings coursing through his veins.  But he knows what Danny wants.

Claude summons every ounce of control he has left to lift his head and say “Please, Danny - please fuck me.”  He lets his head fall back on the pillow, feeling oddly spent, and whispers “please” once more.

“Of course I will,” Danny replies, spreading his fingers inside Claude, testing.  “Of course. I’ve got you.” He twists his wrist to brush against Claude’s prostate again, then pulls his fingers out and grabs at the lube.  Claude moans at the emptiness, hole flexing around nothing, but Danny is already slicking up his cock and shifting his weight forward. 

Claude hardly has time to mourn the loss before Danny looms over him.  One hand slides up by Claude’s head to brace himself, and the other is still on his cock.  Danny pauses for a moment, eyes soft on Claude’s, before rubbing the head of his cock up and down between Claude’s cheeks.  Claude’s breath hitches every time the head passes over his hole, feeling it clench and release involuntarily. Finally Danny guides himself to Claude’s hole and begins pushing in, and Claude exhales.

God, it’s….it’s so much, it’s so incredible, it always is.. Claude’s eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and he’s awash in sensation, fullness and rightness. It surprises him, every time, how  _ good _ this feels. 

“ _ Tabarnak,  _ Claude,” he hears Danny’s voice say, and when Claude opens his eyes, Danny’s looking straight at him, one hand still braced by Claude’s head and the other moving to the back of Claude’s thigh and pushing it up.  The change in angle is incredible, Claude grunts as Danny pushes in deeper, spreading him wider. Danny isn’t smiling, and his eyes bore into Claude’s, intent and dark. Claude groans at the pressure, at the stretch, but most of all at that look on Danny’s face. Danny’s complete focus is a lot - on the ice, at his house, like this - but it’s the calculation on his face, the fierceness with which he looks at Claude, that wrecks Claude. Like he’s sizing Claude up, like he knows every aspect of what makes him tick, and he’s gonna use it.

This is what Claude had wanted, from the moment he saw Danny in the hallway. To give himself over, give himself up. To know that Danny would give him exactly what he needs, and to take it from him.

“Fuck,” Claude says, the word punched out of him. He doesn’t even know what he’s reacting to. He’s losing most of his grasp on conscious thought - his mind has become just a series of reactions. It’s like he’s buzzing apart, which only intensifies when Danny shifts backwards, slightly, and the hand that had been by Claude’s head comes down to stroke his cock.

Danny picks up the pace, of both his thrusts and the glide of his hand over Claude’s cock.  His dick is so hard and full inside of Claude, pushing inexorably into him, grazing over and over against his prostate. And then Danny shifts, slightly, up and forward, and holy shit, that’s it, right  _ there _ .

“ I know, baby ,” Danny says, and Claude realizes he said something out loud. Or Danny can just  _ tell _ , can tell when he’s taking Claude completely apart. Danny tightens his grip on Claude’s cock, adds a twist with this thumb, all while still fucking into him, sweaty and slipping against each other. Claude feels like the top of his head is coming off, like he might disintegrate into a million pieces. He thinks he might be crying. 

“Danny,” Claude says, and it’s not a plea, not even an address, just an affirmation. “Danny, Danny,  _ Danny… _ ”

“Are you close?” Danny asks, and Claude blinks, has to tilt his chin down, tries to refocus and make the words make sense in his head.

“Are you close,  _ mon coeur _ ?” Danny repeats, and Claude gets it, finally. Is he close? It’s hard to focus through the universe of intensity around him but yeah, he’s fucking close.

He starts to nod and Danny’s mouth quirks into a smile, lopsided and fond even as he fucks his dick into Claude. “Don’t forget,” Danny says, and Claude remembers. It’s knowing that he can’t come without asking - and that Danny might say no - that sharpens everything, gathers all that intensity and focuses it down to a point, and suddenly Claude needs to come, he needs to come RIGHT NOW. 

“Danny, Danny- Can I?” Claude gets out, and he’s panting, little gasps every time Danny fucks all the way into him, every time  he pushes Claude up against the headboard.

“Can you what?” Danny asks, and it’s clear and controlled even as Claude can see the veins on his neck standing out.  Even as he can feel the tension in the hand that’s on Claude’s thigh, can see the sweat beading on Danny’s forehead.

“Fuck, Danny, ugh,” Claude groans, and tries again. “Danny, can I - can I come? Can I? Now?”

Danny slows the hand on Claude’s cock, ever so slightly, and leans forward until his mouth is close to Claude’s face, until their eyes are centimeters apart. He breathes there for a thrust, two. 

“No,” Danny says. His hand grips Claude harder, and he bottoms out inside him and stays there, grinding in. Claude feels heat flash through him, roiling and swirling through his whole body. He didn’t think he could get any more aroused, but he can, of course he can. It’s  _ Danny _ . 

Danny’s back to fucking him, intense and efficient, his hand on Claude’s cock, just holding him there, keeping him on the edge. _ How long is he going to stay there _ , Claude wonders. 

“Danny,” Claude moans. “God, fuck. Danny, I can’t…” Claude wants to be good, wants to be what Danny wants, wants to listen. He wants to be good with his whole body, but he’s exploding. “I  _ can’t _ , you make me -  _ ahhh _ -”

“You can,” Danny says, and he’s panting, a bit. “ _ Mon etoile _ , I know you can.” 

Claude bites his lip, and he’ll try, for Danny, because Danny knows he can. He tries to do what he does on the ice - take the sensation and push it down, push it inside of him to be dealt with later. But its not working, he’s too  _ close _ , and he looks up at Danny, eyes wet. 

Whatever Danny sees, he must understand, because his hand comes off Claude’s thigh and he rakes his nails down Claude’s chest, just hard and deep enough to hurt. Claude arches up, trying to get closer or further, he’s not sure. 

It works, for a moment, the pain something else to focus on, grounding him. And then it’s not working at all, and the pain on his chest is just more sensation, setting his teeth on edge, zipping between the lines on his chest to his dick to his ass and back again, lines of fire. He feels caught, trapped, and he’s - he’s gonna come, he can’t stop it.

“Danny,” Claude chokes out, “Can I, please let me come, please, god, I have to-” He’s babbling, it’s just nonsense words now. 

Claude keeps talking, words spilling out unbidden, until Danny finally stills his hand, shoves his dick in hard, and says, “Yes. Come. Now.” 

Claude comes, and it empties him out. Everything washes through him and there’s nothing left, just bits of star stuff behind his eyes, a muscle spasming in his calf. He feels  _ so _ good, so blissed out, seperate from his body and completely present in it. 

He’s still mumbling, still talking without intention or awareness.  Mostly its just just “Danny, Danny,” over and over again, mixed with “ _ crisse”  _ and “ _ t _ _ ellement bon.” _ He barely notices when Danny pulls out, barely feels the loss of sensation, and then Danny’s hand is on his own dick and he’s jerking himself, twice, three times, and he comes all over Claude, semen splattering his stomach and chest, Danny’s mixed with his own. Claude’s still floating; he can’t talk, he doesn’t think he can move. 

Danny collapses next to him, half on top of him. Danny’s arm is around his waist and he’s panting in Claude’s ear - “you’re good, you’re so good.” Claude moves closer, wanting the warmth, the feel of Danny’s skin against his.  Claude sighs into the darkness of the room, and feels Danny breathe deeply in kind.

They lie there for a few moments, together, before Danny starts to shift off of him.  Claude makes a small sound of displeasure, but Danny shushes him almost immediately.

“I’m not going anywhere,  _ mon coeur _ , just have to take care of a few things.”  Danny’s voice is soft, reassuring. Claude settles back into the bed as he feels Danny reaching for the cuffs around his wrists - truth be told, Claude had nearly forgotten about them, hardly feeling any sort of discomfort.  Danny unbuckles each cuff carefully, tossing them towards the bedside table and rubbing at Claude’s wrists gently.

“Anything hurt?  Any tingling?” Danny asks.  Claude closes his eyes and shakes his head, words still beyond him.  But he feels good, he feels great, he feels  _ perfect. _

“Good, that’s good,” Danny replies.  He continues the gentle massage of Claude’s wrists and hands, before taking his hands and bringing Claude’s arms back down to his sides.  Danny slowly draws his hands up Claude’s arms before bringing them to rest, one at his shoulder and one coming up to cup Claude’s face. Danny strokes his hand over Claude’s cheekbones, under his eyes to wipe the fallen tears, over his forehead to brush back his sweat-damp hair.  His fingers form a calming and achingly tender circuit.

“I will be back in a minute, you just stay right here and relax.” Claude nods, eyes still shut, and he feels the bed shift as Danny climbs out of it and pads away.  Claude breathes, and hears the tap running in the en suite. He breathes again, counting his slowing heartbeats, and Danny is back with a dip of the bed to Claude’s right.

A warm, wet cloth passes gently over Claude’s stomach and groin.  Danny somehow knows how to exert the exact amount of pressure to get Claude clean without pulling him out of this soft, sweet headspace where he’s still floating.  Danny is efficient as he brings the cloth down between Claude’s legs, gentle passes over his hole and between his thighs to remove any residual lube. Claude opens his eyes and looks down at Danny - taking in his intent expression, his carefully controlled movements.  Danny looks up and meets Claude’s gaze, eyes softening as he gives Claude a tiny smile. Claude’s heart swells, everything settling onto the right side of too much.

Danny tosses the used cloth in the direction of the en suite and crawls back up the bed, sitting against the headboard with Claude’s head by his hip.  He gently helps Claude to sit up as well, maneuvering him so Claude’s back is plastered against his front, Claude sitting between his legs. Danny wraps one arm around Claude’s waist, grounding him and anchoring them together.  He presses a lingering kiss to Claude’s cheek before stretching an arm over to the bedside table, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade he must have placed there earlier on. Danny removes the lid and brings the lip of the bottle to Claude’s mouth.

“Drink,  _ mon cher _ .”  Claude obediently opens his mouth and tips his head back slightly, supported by Danny’s shoulder.   It’s sweet and refreshing as it trickles down his throat, quenching a thirst he hadn’t even realized he felt.  Claude makes a small sound when he’s had enough and Danny removes the bottle, giving him a moment to breathe. The gentle circling of Danny’s palm across Claude’s stomach keeps him tethered to the moment, to them.

“More, please?” Claude asks, when he’s ready.  He knows from every time they’ve done this before that Danny won’t let him sleep until he’s finished the Gatorade, and  _ God _ is he exhausted, between the game, the sex,  _ Danny _ .  Danny obliges, bringing the bottle back to Claude’s lips and helping him to drain it.

“Good,  _ très bien,”  _ Danny praises as he puts the empty bottle back on the bedside table.  Danny uses the hand around Claude’s midsection to muscle them back to laying down, keeping himself flush against Claude’s side.  Their height difference usually means that Danny is the little spoon, but not on nights like these. On nights like these, Danny surrounds Claude completely, wrapping him up tightly with his arms and legs.  Danny’s warmth is a grounding presence at Claude’s back, his heartbeat a reassuring soundtrack.

“Sleep now, Claude,” Danny murmurs, breath ghosting over Claude’s ear.  “We’ll talk in the morning.” The last thing Claude is aware of before slipping into sleep is a light kiss pressed into the base of his neck.

+++

Claude awakens to the muffled sounds of birds chirping outside and the muted light of early morning.  He goes to stretch, and finds himself still enveloped by Danny’s limbs. Claude chuckles softly, and feels Danny’s arms tighten around him briefly in response - he must be awake, too, residue of early mornings and school schedules.  Claude turns over within the circle of Danny’s arms to face him.

“Good morning, sunshine” Claude chirps, smiling at Danny’s morning face.  Danny winces a little, scrunching his features, before smiling in return.

“ _ Bonjour _ ,” Danny says as he brings a hand up to brush Claude’s hair back from his forehead.  “How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” Claude takes a moment to consider it, to take stock of his body and mind.  “I feel great,” he answers honestly. “You really- It was-” he pauses, stumbling over his words.  “I just feel good, is all.” Claude looks away from Danny’s face, feeling suddenly shy.

“I’m so glad to hear that.” Danny’s voice is so warm, so kind.  “I could tell you were… well, you know. I thought you might need it.”  Danny hesitates. “Might need me.”

Claude’s eyes snap back to Danny’s.  “Always, Danny.” He reaches for Danny’s waist and pulls him closer, burying his face in Danny’s neck.

“I know,  _ ma fou _ ,” Danny soothes, hand running across Claude’s back.  “I know. And I’m right here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your help, maypolegoat. Sorry about the aneurysm
> 
> Also none of us REALLY speak French here, and we mostly used [this](https://www.verbling.com/articles/post/creative-terms-of-endearment-in-french-that-are-local-to-quebec-552ee4b35afee0982a1a82ff), so if you have any corrections feel free to let us know!


End file.
